Before You
by Morikumo
Summary: You, meanwhile, had been growing steadily discomforted by his intense stare. You didn't like that he was scrutinizing you so thoroughly, making you feel so heated under his eyes. You didn't like that his hand was so warm. And you especially didn't like that he was so focused on you when Leah was standing only a few feet away. Leah, his girlfriend.


_A/N: _This is not a fairy tale. This is a story about things beyond control, beyond selfishness or forgiveness. This is not a fairy tale.

_before you_

* * *

Before you, they were in love. It was the kind of love affair that everyone in town mooned over—the other kids at school knew that to invite one was to expect the other. All the adults thought it was adorable. The teachers at school would make teasing remarks about the pair, and even the cashier in the hardware shop would ask how the town's love birds were, if one of them ever passed through his line. Nobody was surprised when they were elected Mr. and Mrs. Freshman that fall for the yearbook, and they were even on Homecoming court together.

His tie matched her glittering dark grey sheath dress.

That was before you.

Before you, they would go to the Winter Carnival at the school together. And even though something strange had happened, something that made his eyes occasionally darken mysteriously in thought, she was happy. She didn't even mind that he had disappeared without warning. He had come back, and that's all that mattered. For the most part, too, he wasn't changed, aside from his sudden growth spurt. She would tease him: they started off as a pair of gawky kids, and he had to go and develop like that. Now he looked older, even more learned. It was a good change though—he was the handsomest boy in the state, she knew it without a doubt.

She was thrilled to call him hers.

That was before you.

Before you, it was easy to pretend that nothing was amiss. Despite his occasional absences, and his dogged explanations, she knew that he still cared. He still got her a rose every year for the anniversary of their first date, and would open the door for her every time he picked her up. The only thing that hurt was when he grew distant in his own thoughts, and nothing she could do could rouse him. She simply didn't have that hold over him.

He would pat her hand reassuringly, telling her he just needed time with his thoughts.

That was before you.

Before you, they went swimming at the beach together. She was gorgeous, of course, knowing how to serve perfectly at volleyball. She would hit the ball with such force, all the other girls would squeal with glee, and the boys would whistle. He would just smirk, saying, "That's Leah, alright." She was gorgeous and confident, her black hair catching the sun magnificently. And he, with his strong physique and chiseled face, was a good match. They seemed to deserve each other. No one was surprised when they were elected, once more, to be the Mr. and Mrs., but this time of the sophomore class.

It just seemed to fit.

That was before you.

Before you, there were rumors that they would marry. The boys would joke that, despite being only juniors, he had "the old ball and chain." The girls would ask her what she thought her engagement ring would look like, if she had any idea when the question would be popped. No one, they said, had won the Mr. and Mrs. awards three year in a row, and so it had to be a sure sign that they were meant to be.

She hoped so.

That was before you.

Before you, they had only one last perfect week. It was the week of the Spring Dance. They hadn't gone this time; he had said he wasn't feeling up to it. And she understood, even as a part of her deflated. The gym was really crowded, with sweating bodies and loud music. He seemed to have been more sensitive lately to that kind of thing, and so she only gave him grief about it for a few days. She'd pouted and been quiet as they sat in his living room, ignoring him as he drew lazy circles on her back. The silent treatment only worked for so long. It was, after all, just as he said: just a dance. And so she took comfort knowing that she had the handsomest boyfriend one could ask for, and it wasn't necessary to drag him to a stupid school function. He made it worth skipping, too, as they lay entangled on the couch, his feverish temperature making her skin hot. She would run her fingers through his hair, and his fingers traced up the skin of her thighs, brushing the hem of her shorts before running back down to her knees.

The dance really hadn't mattered, she decided. Nothing seemed to be more important than a moment like that.

But then there was you.

You, who loved her like a sister, came to visit. A six-day-visit for Spring Break. She hadn't seen you for months, and was thrilled that you were finally coming to see her. She had squealed on the phone at your suggestion, and had cemented all the plans within five minutes. For your part, you couldn't believe it had been so long. She and her family had come to see you the summer before, but too much time had passed. For a pair of girls who could not have comprehended a childhood without the other, it felt as if a lifetime had passed. She had told you of her boyfriend on the phone, painting him to be the most glorious and thoughtful man a girl could ask for. You were skeptical of such a young love being so ardent, and you teased her, saying, "I'll judge that for myself, Leah. He'll have to pass my test." She had laughed on the phone, telling you that you'd love him. She said she hoped you'd find such a gorgeous, caring guy someday. You had laughed, saying, "Maybe someday."

You never would have guessed that events would unravel the way they did.

When you first reunited, you ran so fast that you dropped your dufflebags on the ground, catching her as she launched herself off the ground and into your arms. She was spritely and giddy, telling you, "We're going to the beach. No questions. Right after dinner."

You were so happy to be with your best friend, you would have agreed to even cliff-diving.

Aunt Sue had welcomed you with a hug and kiss, saying fondly, "My, my. Look how you've grown, even in this last year! Sometimes I can't believe you and Leah are already seventeen. Your mother must be just as floored as me. Did you cut your hair?"

You hugged Uncle Harry and Seth, overwhelmed slightly as Leah fired off into a description of everything she wanted to do while you were there. That was how things always went—she was always the force of your relationship, the driving and deciding force. You were the tender-hearted one, the maternal one. She was reckless and emotional, young and exciting. She would lend you her sense of adventure, and you'd lend her some of your sweetness, just to balance each other out. It was how it always was.

When the kitchen door was rattled ten minutes later, you barely thought anything of it. You were still talking to Aunt Sue, though now you can barely remember her words. You didn't notice the man who stepped into the kitchen at first, but he noticed you.

And there you were.

He noticed how a small smile seemed to have a permanent place on your face, how your black hair trapped sunlight like magic. He saw the shape of your dark hands, and his eyes ran up the curving silhouette of your body. In under fifty seconds, his entire universe had rearranged itself, with the cosmos stirring and twisting to create a new and more perfect reality, where you were the center. You became the sun, the moon, the stars, and everything that had ever been beautiful and surreal and necessary. His priorities had been turned upside down, and you had managed to slip into the first place spot. You, not noticing him in your momentary distraction, had become oxygen. You had become sunlight. You became his life.

He had stiffened entirely, trying desperately to collect his senses. But even his senses were being claimed by you. His dark eyes had grown wide, unable to sever his intent gaze. His nostrils had filled with your scent, a sweet scent of linen and peonies—a smell that would forever haunt him. He locked it in his brain, knowing he could always find you by it. Your voice, sweet and delighted, wound itself around his heart. He'd do anything for that voice. His mouth watered uncharacteristically as he wondered about your taste, and his hands ached to touch you. He would have died right then and there simply to be graced by one brush of your hand. All that was in him called out to all that was in you.

And that was when you turned to find the most handsome man you'd ever seen. With a stare that burned, he stood several yards away, in the doorway, separated from you by a mere kitchen table. Your breath hitched at his expression—at the eyebrows that had pulled in over dark eyes, giving you a longing glance that imprinted itself on your soul. His jaw was taut, making the bone structure all the more awe-inspiring.

You were rocked to your core. For a second, you thought you have glimpsed a god. You swore you could see right into his soul, and that he was doing the same to you.

And that was when you notice her, standing beside him, grinning happily. "Emily," she says, "this is my boyfriend, Sam." And you knew that something was horribly wrong with you. It had to be—to have such a reaction to a man who was not only unavailable, but belonged to your best friend and cousin…it was unthinkable. Ashamed, you wiped the stupid stare off your face, replacing it with what you hope is an acceptable smile.

"Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." You stepped forward with the intention of crossing to him, but he beat you to it—he crossed the nine feet between you in a matter of seconds, eyes still glued to your face.

"Sam Uley." His voice was pleasant and rich, a deep one that inexplicably evokes an image of candlelight and kisses. You pushed it away, hating yourself. You extended your hand, all business. For the first time, his gaze dropped yours. He looked at your hand, as if uncertain he should dare take it, before slowly taking it into a soft, firm grip. His fingers wrapped around yours as if they were custom made for each other. "It's a pleasure."

You didn't know that his world had stopped spinning, that he had begun equating you with gravity. You didn't know of his thundering heart, of the images flashing through his mind. You couldn't see what he saw: you and he, locked in an embrace…you and he, marveling over a newborn that is proof of an eternal bond…you and he, old together, meant to be forever. But these images came naturally, unbidden, and ingrained themselves in his brain. They are images he will cling to for the rest of his existence. They are truth, and he knew it would be reality eventually. He treasured these premonitions.

You did not realize that he would be all you ever need and want. That he would do whatever you ask. If you asked him to stand in that one spot and not move for a week, he would count the seconds faithfully. If you asked him to kiss you, he'd sweep you into his arms without a second thought, without a care to the others in the room. If you asked him, he would fetch a falling star for you. Whatever you wanted, whatever would make you happy.

There was you, and nothing but you.

You, meanwhile, had been growing steadily discomforted by his intense stare. You didn't like that he was scrutinizing you so thoroughly, making you feel so heated under his eyes. You didn't like that his hand was so warm. And you especially didn't like that he was so focused on you when Leah was standing only a few feet away. His _girlfriend. _

You stepped away.

He did the same, but now it felt like a thread was between the two of you.

Leah came up behind him, wrapping her hand around his bicep. She was smiling, seemingly oblivious. You didn't know that your encounter struck her as odd, but that she was chalking it up to nerves. You glanced away, back at the smiling face of Aunt Sue. There was something conventional and predictable there, nothing like what you'd found in Sam.

"We'll have to go to the Bonfire tomorrow night," Leah said, excited. "Oh, Em, you'll love it. Everybody from school will be there. Sam can drive us."

You glanced back at Leah, a smile in place. "Okay." It was all you could do; you felt so guilt-ridden. You were strangely torn between wanting to run headlong out of the room, and knocking Sam to theground. His heat seemed to radiate, even from a distance.

Leah grasped Sam, seemingly blind to his sudden fixation. "I told Emily about Hao Chi, that it's the best Chinese food ever. And she loves Chinese."

"She does?" You didn't know that he was desperate to collect any fact about you that he could, eager for anything.

You laughed nervously, feeling like you've been electrified, and tried to be normal. "Well, really, I love anything. I'm a big eater."

"That's where she gets those thighs," Leah teased.

You laughed, patting your left leg. "It's true." You tried to ignore how his eyes had fallen to your legs, seemed to drink in the sight of you. You laughed again, keeping your eyes on Leah solidly.

"Do you want to go with us?"

You kept your apprehension to yourself. You honestly didn't know if you could handle an entire meal with him sitting there, with those eyes staring at you as if you were the most fascinating thing ever. You swallowed subtly, casting your eyes downward, ears perked for his answer.

Sam was quiet for a long second, before finally declining. "I should head home." His answer is cautious, almost. You would not know until much later that he was already sensing your discomfort, and feeling miserable over such a thing. He wanted you to like him with a desperation unlike anything he'd ever felt before, trying fervently to gain your approval. He wanted your smile, wanted happiness in your eyes. He felt your anxiety, and unwillingly backed off.

"Oh." Leah shrugged. "Well, thanks for stopping by, then. We'll see you later."

She neared him as if to kiss him, and he quickly turned his head so as to catch the gesture on his cheek. He couldn't look at you, eyes trained on your shoes as he received affection from another. He wished in that moment that he could erase his and Leah's history, wished that you had never known. Leah, momentarily surprised by his dodge, tried to laugh it off. "Bye, babe."

"Nice meeting you." You were feeling better already, knowing he would be gone in a second. Maybe your guilt would disappear, too. He didn't want to look at you as he left. A part of him sensed your mood elevating, and mourned that his absence was the reason.

All things for you.

* * *

At dinner, she was happy, chattering away. She was eager to hear what you thought about Sam. You couldn't summon the words. The English language suddenly seemed far off, but you tried. "He's, um…very intense." Very nice. Coming from the girl who was vice-president of the forensic speech team. You smiled before hastily shoving an entire eggroll in your mouth.

"He is," Leah agreed. "He changed a lot a while back, after we first starting seeing each other. He's much more reserved now, keeping to himself. He's kind of secretive." You sensed her sadness, and patted her hand absently. She smirked. "But hey, it's Sam. So I get over it."

"I'm glad."

"He seemed to like you," Leah said this hesitantly, and you can sense that she doesn't know what to say. Neither of you believed that "like" was a word to describe it.

"I don't think so." You try to chuckle it off. "It was pretty awkward. Probably doesn't like sharing you."

It was a casual comment, not even one that you believe. But Leah lights up at it, like it could be true, and you felt a pang of sadness. You smiled again, changing the subject. "Great eggrolls."

* * *

The next day, the Sam thing didn't feel like a weight on your chest. You breathed in deeply, sure that yesterday was just a fluke, a weird response after eight hours of driving. Leah's still asleep, despite the sun coming through the curtains. You stand up from the carpet, passing her bed as quietly as possible.

Aunt Sue left out a box of hot chocolate, and a note saying she was taking Seth to Sequim for the afternoon. You made yourself a cup of hot chocolate, before stepping outside.

You wore only your pajama bottoms, and a loose-fitting top from some school event. You sat on the edge of the porch, taking a long sip and studying the land.

Minutes passed before you felt it. You felt the gaze, the unwavering attention. You cautiously took a sip of your drink, hoping the sensation would go away. It didn't.

Finally, you stood up, going to the edge of the lawn. You passed the swing-set that you and Leah once played on. She was the pirate princess; you were the princess in charge of guarding the treasure from Seth. Nevermind that the treasure was a bunch of cheap beaded necklaces.

At the edge, you peered through the underbrush. You knew the woods here weren't too severe; forty feet of leaves and branches, and you'd be standing on the neighbor's lawn.

That was when you saw him.

A large, black wolf.

At least, that's what you thought at first. It was lying down, demurely, watching you with gentle eyes. You chuckled, realizing it had to be the neighbor's dog. It only looked so huge because of the shade. You pondered calling to it for a second, but decided against it. You retreated back to the house.

"Wear a sweatshirt." Leah was brushing her hair. It was much more luxurious than yours. While usually you were quite content with your own assets, you had always harbored a love for your cousin's hair. And while yours was so similar that most people couldn't tell the difference, you appreciated how Leah's curled so easily. You ran a hand over the strands.

"You're so beautiful, Leah." You grinned at her in the mirror, and the affection in her eyes caused your throat to swell. You almost couldn't believe your thoughts from the day before—how could you have thought such things for your best friend's love? It was almost disgusting.

Your abhorrence for your reaction yesterday was strong as you saw Sam's truck coming around the bend. You kept it up well, too, even as his long legs appeared from the driver's seat. He was out of the car quicker than you could guess, and he opened the door.

"He's done that since our first date," Leah said quietly, giving you a pointed look. You could read it easily. It said, "I'm the luckiest girl ever." And the part of your brain that you were trying hard to ignore understood completely.

But he watched you as you climbed in the backseat, and steadied you as you slipped into the back. He almost seemed to help Leah as an afterthought.

When you were driving, you had a view from the back cab. Leah had grabbed his hand. While at first hesitant, he gave up his hand. She's telling him about the night before.

"We stayed up way too late, right, Kim? God. But we couldn't stop talking. We had a lot of catching up."

"Did you?" Part of you wonder if he's being polite, or if Sam is digging for more.

"Of course! I haven't seen her since last summer. She didn't even know I'd gotten into volleyball."

"Does she play, too?" You now saw this as courtesy. He's played at civility well. You didn't suspect that he was trying to steer the conversation, that he couldn't get enough of you. He could listen to a speech about you in monotone and be captivated. But you answered for yourself, still strong in the belief that you had misinterpreted the day before.

"I don't. I'm good for one game before going out cold. Leah's always been more athletic. I think she could play for days and not break a sweat."

Leah laughed, before adding, "Emily's on the debate team, though. She even got vice-presidency, which I just found out." She threw you a proud look.

You blushed, staring out the window.

Silence reigned again. He glanced constantly in the rear-view mirror, glances that ascertained your safety and condition at every moment. You tried not to notice.

At the bonfire, there was limited parking. Dozens of people were there, almost fifty, you'd guess, and a boombox thumped out rhythm not too far away. You hopped out of the truck right after Leah, mildly surprised when you felt a hand steadying your elbow. It was Sam. His eyelashes had dropped, almost obscuring his gaze, but it made your heart swell regardless. You hastily took back your own elbow, going up to stand close to Leah.

"Do you know anyone?" You knew it was a stupid question, but you were desperate to talk, to get Leah's attention, and keep the man behind you out of your thoughts.

"Of course," Leah replied with a sense of haughtiness, but smirked sideways regardless. "Do you want to go dance?" She gestured to a group of teens who were currently dancing in a circle, just off from the fire.

"I'm not very good," you said, but she already was dragging you toward it.

Some of the girls in the dancing circle introduced themselves, and Emily nodded to each with a smile. Leah moved with a style that made you smile. She was familiar with each song that played, and would try to involve you, grabbing your arms and getting you to move.

As Leah turned to shimmy with one of her friends, you spun around, still trying to catch the music. And that was when your eyes met his once more. He caught you easily, as if his stare was magnetic. You couldn't hear the music anymore, but could, oddly enough, hear something else…something rhythmic and strong. It sounded…

….like a heartbeat.

You stared, transfixed for another moment. His hair felt into his eyes, giving him a wilder look than usual. Firelight danced off his cheekbones.

He, meanwhile, watched you with the same focus, marveling at the soft grace you wielded. He saw the way your lips parted, felt his own body grow taut with unexpected heat. He ached to go to you, to wrap you in an embrace, and never let you go.

But Leah was back in a moment. Leah, who was painfully oblivious to everything. He wondered if she was choosing to ignore this, ignore the attraction between the boyfriend and the cousin. He found it hard to believe—how could anyone ignore it? Your connection was searing, a physical force that almost made him breathless.

You turned away to look at Leah, who was joking that maybe she should have brought her suit. You smiled weakly, feeling exhausted and overwhelmed. The steady _badump _continued to pound.

You realized it was your own heart.

"Leah, would you mind if I just wandered around?" You needed to get away, be alone. You were repulsed by your shameless staring, your gawking at the boy whom she was in love with. Whom she wanted to _marry._

Leah, for the first time, looked startled. "What?" Her voice was sharp. "Why?"

"I'm feeling hot." You smiled quickly. "I don't have your dancing prowess, girl. I think I need to go take a break, and I'd like to look around the woods a little."

Leah's expression had softened, and she shrugged. "Sure, whatever. Just don't get lost, okay?"

"I'll be back in a little bit," you promised, before spinning on your heel. You hurried down the slope, disappearing into the dark.

You were alone, and you were glad for it.

You felt hot and tired, but staring up at the sky was calming. You had picked the perfect spot—a sapling tree just inside the woods. It was sturdy enough to support your back as you leaned against, and you were offered a peek of the stars through the canopy of trees. The raucous of the party was distant, but not far enough so that you felt unsafe. You took another deep breath, trying to sort through your own emotions.

You couldn't understand your attraction to Sam, then. You couldn't understand the way it seemed to cling to you, impossible to shake. You were better than this, you told yourself repeatedly. You, one of the best-liked girls in your school, who never stooped to pining for a friend's crush. You were the one that everyone called a friend, the one called "Sweetheart." You were intelligent and loyal, above feeling attraction to a man simply for his looks and magnetic appeal; and you most especially were above wanting your best friend's lover.

Maybe Leah had been too descriptive in talking about Sam, in telling you all the details of their love life. Maybe it was Leah's thrilling narrative that set some ill-conceived notion in your brain. You clutched at your forehead, trying to stop these horrible feelings. Tears leaked from your eyes.

You only heard him when he was already too close. He stepped on a twig consciously, to alert you of his presence. Your head lifted, as you quickly tried to fix your hair.

Sam stood in the moonlight, once more reminding you of a hero from mythology. He looked like an ancient Native American legend, with his handsome features and dignified stance. And the way he was staring at you…with mournful eyes that caused your heart to melt…

"Emily." The way he said your name made your body feel inexplicably alive. You frowned, sucking in a deep breath.

"What?" Your words came out cold.

"Don't cry," he said, voice low and broken. "Please, don't cry." He said it with such sincerity that one would think it was his life's calling to ensure you never cried. You hated that, hated that he made you feel so valued. When he belonged to someone else.

"Just go away, Sam." You turned away, resolutely, casting your eyes upward to the stars.

"I can't. Don't ask me to, because I can't."

"Why?" You fought for control in your voice.

"I can't leave you," he said, voice barely audible, "when I feel how much you need me."

Face still averted, you feel the tears rising in your eyes; the truth to his words made you sick. You couldn't speak for a long moment, knowing anything would sound warbled. You needed control. Control. Control. But when you do finally think you can speak, you can only get out one word. "You—" That was it, before your voice collapsed into a pitiful sob. You quickly covered your face, shamed beyond expression. You tried again, through the tears. "I said, 'Go away!'"

But he didn't. Instead, he was beside you, wrapping his arms around you in such a way that your knees grew limp. The contact caused your tears to run anew, and you weakly attempted to push him away. "You're not mine! Go away!"

His breath was at your ear, stirring the delicate hairs there. His voice caused warmth to pool in your belly. "Never think that. I am yours, irrevocably and forever."

You shoved again, managing to free your face from his chest. "How dare you say that? Leah is—" You had to swallow, voice thick as you railed, "Leah is right up the hill!"

Sam's eyes were focused on your mouth, attention unwavering. His voice was low as he managed to say, "I don't care."

You felt yourself deflating, shocked. "What?"

"I don't care," he said, sounding mildly surprised, himself. "I can't care about any of that—I can only…all I can think…" He trailed off, stepping closer. His heat engulfed you, as you stared with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?" You sucked in a breath. He dipped his head to level your heights.

Sam's piercing eyes lifted, only inches from your own. "Forgive me."

With that, he kissed you. He captured your lips in such a sweet, tender kiss, you knew it would remain in your memory for the rest of your life. The shock was only there for a moment, before being replaced by something instinctive and strong, something that pulled your hands from your sides so as to entwine around his neck. The one kiss turned into several, which turned into many, and you lost yourself in his arms. His mouth, moving against yours in such a heated, eager way made your toes curl. The kisses varied between sweet and soft to passionate and demanding. He was there, body hard, cemented to your own. It felt as if they were made to fit in such a way. You didn't know how it happened exactly, but could feel his hands as they covered you, as they slid down and over each inch of you. As if he was desperate to know and memorize each inch of your body. His hand inched lower down your abdomen, slipping beneath the band of your pants with questioning longing. He touched you through the cotton of your underwear, and you heard two mouths gasp in ragged breaths at the sensation. You moan, fingernails digging into his biceps. A sound like a growl vibrated from his throat, but the proximity made it reverberate through your own chest. You wanted to tell him to touch _you, _forget the underwear, but before you could, he read your mind and there's _his _skin, against _your _flesh, and now he was moaning audibly too, like it was the best thing he's ever felt in the whole world and it made you wetter thinking that, so you began to grind yourself against his hand. A finger slipped into you and the intrusion was weird but perfect-

The warmth in your belly was blossoming. Never before had you felt such intensity, or felt so…

…..loved.

When you came, he muffled the scream with his own mouth, with his own throaty moan.

You broke away from each other, breathing heavily. Your breath intermingled with his, your body still flush against his. His grip on you was still firm. Your arms remained about his neck.

"I have never…" You had to swallow.

"Emily." His voice was beautiful, saying your name like a prayer. He looked ecstatic, as if he had just discovered the secret of the universe.

It brought a smile to your lips. You spoke with more certainty. "I have never felt anything like that before…" Never that heat, that soul-wrenching sense of _right_. "I've only ever…"

_Heard about it._

A memory came to you, a sharp stab of clarity.

_Leah, lying on her bed. It is your first night together since the summer, since you met Sam. Away from him, it is better. But as Leah launches into intimate details, you can't help but taste guilt in your mouth. As she tells you of their first kiss, of how she feels when he kisses her so passionately, when they're writhing against each other…you recoil from these images, not wanting to see them together. And that fact alone saddens you._

And, now, pressed against him, you realized that you were not the first to feel such primitive needs. You were not the only one who longed for this man's touch. Or received them.

You refused to compete.

You broke away completely, steeling your features. The air about you even seemed to chill in agreement as you took in the heaven-fallen male across from you.

Your voice stung. "We can't do this. Ever again."

When you walked away, he allowed you to.

The rest of the night was spent near Leah, but you could not rouse yourself into doing anything. The chaos of the party was a dull blur behind you. You were entranced by the fire, by your own thoughts. The wetness between your legs was like penance- an agonizing reminder. The only truly clear sound was a wild one: the sound of a howl, a wolf's cry in the far distance. There was something distinctly anguished about it, and you found you could relate.

You could relate, because even now, you longed for someone who you barely knew, but wanted so thoroughly, it felt like physical pain. But what hurt more was knowing he would never be yours.

"I wonder where Sam is," Leah looked around. The party was dwindling now, and you stood beside her quietly, wanting to go home.

"I'm right here." He came from the darkness, easily stepping from the shadows. His beautiful features had misery scrawled across them.

"You don't look good, baby," Leah crooned, eyebrows furrowing. "What's wrong?"

"Just don't feel well," he replied, gruffly. You kept your eyes averted.

"Neither does Emily," Leah responded. "Let's just go home then."

The ride home was quiet. At first, Leah tried to create conversation, but when it became clear that neither of you wanted any part, she tapered off. You rested your forehead against the glass. When the lights of the Clearwater home finally appeared around the corner, you could barely wait for Leah to open the door. She had only just stepped out when you were right behind her, scrambling over the seat and praying to God that you didn't knock him accidentally, or make any contact whatsoever.

As you circled around to the front of the car, his eyes met yours through the windshield, expression wounded and eyes sorrowful. You tucked your arms against your body, suddenly feeling chilled.

Leah went to him, presumably for a kiss, but he turned his face away. His gaze fell, as if he was ashamed to have her kiss him—and all you could think was, "Good." After what happened, he deserved a bit of shame. You didn't realize that his guilt was not from being with you—he balked at the idea of having you watch him with any woman. You didn't catch his pleading gaze as Leah backed from the window awkwardly, thanking him for the ride. Your eyes were trained on the ground.

In Leah's bedroom, the floor felt hard beneath you.

"Emily?"

You hoped your silence would ward off questions—but instead, she simply raised her voice. Her bed creaked.

"What?" Your voice was a whisper.

"Sam is so weird lately," she said. Her voice slipped over the side of the bed. You could hear the sadness there, felt your own stomach twist. "He…he already was different, from when we first met, but…he…" Leah paused, then sucks in a breath. "He never tells me anything anymore. He never explains where he goes when he leaves suddenly; if he's gone for a few days, he won't tell me. My dad acts like it's no big deal, tells me not to worry. I don't get why he thinks it's not important. It _is _important."

You swallowed and searched for words. "I don't know, Leah."

Leah fired on in an emotionally-charged whisper. "He acts like he knows what's going on with Sam, like he knows everything. Sometimes I get so mad, I want to just—aggh! I want to just throw it in his face that he _doesn't _know everything. If he did, if he knew that I've slept with Sam, then I bet he'd be a lot less comforting. He'd have a clue as to why it hurts so much when Sam is uncommunicative—when the guy I'm in love with just disappears." Leah's voice cracked at this point, and you heard the tears.

Your face burned. "Leah…"

She interrupted, words thick. "Oh, God, Emily. Sometimes I think he's going to break up with me, and I just know I'd die."

You tried to comfort her, even though the words tasted like burnt rubber in your mouth. "I'm sure it's not you, he's probably—"

"The night we first did it," Leah was confessing between tears, "he looked at me like I was the prettiest girl in the world. And now…now he doesn't."

"You slept with him recently?" The idea burned your brain. You'd already heard the run-down and romantic pictures, as painted by Leah the night before, but it had been easier then to disconnect it. Push such ideas off, as if they occurred long before. To think they had just recently been together…like that…

It made you want to vomit. You bit back a sob.

"Two weeks ago was the latest. He had looked so distracted and…then… then he disappeared the next morning!" She broke down now. You heard her roll over, shoving a pillow to her face to muffle the sound.

You tried, even as your throat threatened to close. "Leah, I don't think it's you. I think he's just…" You couldn't find any adjective, any word to describe the man. "I don't think it's you. Just trust me."

Her cries died off after a while, and then her blankets ruffled. You stared at the ceiling, feeling the hot swell of tears in your eyes. Guilt raked its claws over your stomach.

"I'm sorry, Em," Leah finally whispered. "You're not feeling well. I'll shut up now."

And she did. Within two minutes, you heard her snores.

You knew it was safe to cry your own tears then.

* * *

When you went downstairs the next morning, you were only half-surprised to see him there. And you were even less shocked when he immediately rose from his seat, making the chair bump noisily against the counter in his haste.

"Morning, Em," piped Leah cheerfully. Freshly made-up, she didn't look at all as she had sounded the night before. You smiled at this, at least, avoiding eye contact with Sam.

You caught sight of the box on the edge of the counter."Did you get breakfast?" Delicious.

Leah cast a fond glance at Sam. "Sam did."

Not as delicious anymore. "Oh."

Sam cleared his throat, the rich timbre of his voice flowing over the kitchen in a way that you were sure should be outlawed. "I didn't know what kind…everybody wanted, so I got each."

You nodded, giving him a quick glance. "Thanks." You hated this—the awkwardness. You didn't understand that he was hating it even more. That he was trying desperately to please you—including having spent a half hour in front of the donut-display—and there still was a layer of discomfort between you. You caught his heavy frown, and felt his eyes as you surveyed the selection. He memorized your movement, registered your choice of white-frosting and blue sprinkles.

"Do you like only blue?" His question came out of nowhere. A silly inquiry, perhaps, but his all-serious expression made you stop short.

"No," you replied, a bit puzzled. Leah had stopped mid-chew, and had looked at Sam with an odd expression on her face.

"What a stupid question," she said, eyebrows raised, a smirk forming. "Sprinkles are sprinkles, Sam."

Sam's eyes swung from your face to hers, and then he looked down again. He didn't speak again for a long time.

While at first you and Leah exchanged a few words, a feeling of discomfit eventually descended over the room. Leah ate her donut, staring pensively out the window. Sam tried to surreptitiously study you without your notice, but your dark look made him turn away.

Finally, to break the deafening silence, you asked, "Where is everybody?"

"Work. Or a friend's, in my brother's case."

"Oh." You all sat in quiet for a little longer. When you finally finished off your donut, you announced, "I'm going out for a walk."

Leah nodded, but Sam's head snapped up. "It's not safe to go out alone."

At this, your cousin laughed her pretty little laugh. "Honestly! Our crime rate is…what, zero?"

You studied your hands, trying to escape Sam's heated focus. It was making your stomach tighten—and not in an unpleasant way.

"I'll be careful, then," you said brazenly, before slipping out of the kitchen.

* * *

Your jaw hit the ground when Sam stepped out of the trees forty-five minutes later.

"You followed me!" You pointed at him, stupefied. "You_ followed_ me!" There was no explanation other than that; you'd found a trail in the park past the school, and couldn't help but follow it. For him to have happened to be here…well, it was unbelievable. You scowled.

Sam swallowed, then shrugged. "I told you it wasn't safe." The sunlight through the trees caught the gold on his neck-chain, and you found your eyes were drawn immediately to the contrast. Against his russet skin, the metal was stunning.

"What do you _want_?" Your exasperation made your voice several pitches higher. "Why do you do this?"

Sam expelled a long breath, putting his fists to his forehead. You watched in puzzlement, waiting for a response. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face miserable.

When he finally did speak, it was in a frustrated yell. "I can't tell you. Whenever I…it never works. I've tried so many times, and..." He groaned, eyes snapping open. "If I could tell anyone, I would tell you."

A strange feeling came over you, something in you that reacted to the tortured expression on his face. Leah's voice echoed in your head: _He changed a lot a while back…he's so secretive._

"Tell me what?" You caught his eyes firmly. You could see it on his face: he wasn't trying to be so guarded. Quite the opposite.

There. In his eyes. He looked trapped.

His arms dropped to his sides, and he looked past you, breathing in deeply through his nostrils. When he spoke, his voice was low and defeated. "Damnit. I'll never be able to tell."

"Tell _me_." You didn't know why you emphasize the last word, but it somehow seemed right. It caught his attention, at least.

It took a second before conviction dawned in his eyes. Face grave, he spoke slowly. "Emily, I don't expect you to believe—I wouldn't—but…I'm a werewolf."

You gawked.

Sam looked just as surprised, blinking rapidly. "My God—did you—did you hear that?"

"I did."

"Oh my God." Sam's shock shifted to ecstatic. "Oh my God! Emily!"

And before you could react, he was in front of you, wrapping his arms so snugly around you, you were sure nothing would break the hold. His heat enveloped you as his body touched yours, and that warmth in your gut returned. Without realizing it, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, accepting the embrace as he lifted you clear off the path.

"Emily, Emily," he kept chanting, voice low. "My God, you're amazing. Emily."

"Sam," you said back, breathless. God, how right it felt. Never had you felt such security, such…perfection. You reveled in it for a moment before loosening your own hold. "Sam," you said. "You've got to let go."

He sighed deeply. His muscles moved beneath you with the action, and he held fast for a few more prolonged seconds. Then he released you, your feet gently touching the ground. When he pulled back, his face was near again, the dark eyes mesmerizing.

"I can't believe it. I've tried telling—God, everyone. I can't…I'm so glad." He was looking at you as if you were some kind of holy miracle.

"What do you mean, werewolf?" You were collecting your rationality. "Is that a metaphor?"

He laughed, a deep sound. "I wish. No, I mean it literally. With fur and all."

"Uh huh." Your skepticism was obvious. Maybe the guy had gone nuts. "Full moon?"

"No, actually." He looked relieved. Reaching for your hand, he pulled you along, further down the path. "I can usually control it, I find, but sometimes…it gets to be a bit much. Comes in handy, though…if I feel threatened, I can phase immediately. Helps with the vampires." He paused again, as if expecting to be interrupted. When he wasn't, he breathed another delighted breath.

"God, it's amazing. The weight's been lifted." He cast you a grateful look.

"Sam, we should go back." You were afraid of his rambling, but your fingers refused to release his. It was as if a force beyond your intellect was commanding you, when it came to this man.

"You're the first that I've been able to tell. Whenever I try, I get…God, these awful physical symptoms. It's part of the legends."

"Legends?" Your attention had been caught.

"The Tribe legends. The same ones that…well, it's a long story. But the early tribesmen bonded to wolves, and…"

As he explicated the ancient stories, you kept walking. Your hands were completely entwined. Even as he fed you some of the most ridiculous explanations you could conceive, there was a sense of safety in his warmth. You watched the shape of his profile, the movement of his lips.

"…they say I'm just the first, that there will be more after me, but…" He shrugged, and then, spinning on his heel, caught you in another hug.

He breathed in, inhaling your scent. "Oh, God, Emily. You can't imagine…I just…I knew you were amazing. From the second I saw you, it was like I found peace. After all these months of struggle and misery, I finally found a glimmer of salvation in you."

Your fingers braced on his large biceps. "Sam, you can't expect me to believe this."

"I didn't think anyone would. When Harry and Billy came to me, ready to explain everything, I was—"

Your throat went dry. "Uncle Harry?"

"Yeah. He and Billy…God, without them, I would've died of misery long before now. They helped me so much. They got me to see that I was a protector, that I was given this duty for a reason."

"They know?" _Uncle Harry is a part of this?_

"They do. They came to me, sought me out after I disappeared the first time. I couldn't tell them, but they knew. And it was such a relief. They explained it to my mom, and made excuses where it was due. I'll never be able to thank them enough."

"Are they wolves, too?" You tried to mask your disbelief, but he caught it.

Pulling back, he inquired, "Do you think I'm lying?"

Carefully weighing your answer, you responded, "I think…you're confused."

"Confused?" His face went dark. "You think I'm _confused_?"

"Stressed?" You tried again.

He scowled, pulling back. "The hell? Emily, I'm telling you the truth: I'm a wolf."

"Hmmm." You looked at him, giving him another chance, another chance to elaborate with a reason more rational. When he didn't take it, you sighed. "Sam, I'm going home."

He clasped your wrist. "No, Emily. You can't leave me here, not when you're the only person I've been able to talk to. There's got to be a reason for it, right?"

"I'm sorry, Sam, but I don't believe you." You tried to be gentle but clear.

"Why do you do this?" He looked confused. "You pull this, acting like you loathe me, but you let me walk with you, touch you…" He swallowed, eyes fastened on your lips. "Kiss you."

You gasped, stepping back. "That was a mistake."

"I don't think it was."

"It was," you reiterated. "And I never want Leah to know. Ever."

Sam looked at you pleadingly. "Emily, come on."

"You're hurting her, Sam…your secrets. If you really are what you say you are, then why don't you tell her? Or tell her whatever's going on with you?"

"I told you," he grated. "I tried. I don't know why it works with you."

"You love her, though. You have to try harder."

The mention of the word "love" made him hesitate, causing his shoulders to tense. Noting this, you asked, "What?"

"About that…" He blew out a breath. "I…don't think I love her anymore."

Your stomach twisted. _Please don't say…_

"I'm in love with someone else…"

_Don't say it. Don't. Don'tdon'tdon't._

He maintained your shared gaze, ever-serious. "I'm in love with—"

"Don't!" The word exploded from you. "Don't!"

"Emily." His voice was soft, pleading.

"You don't know me, Sam!" You fell back several steps. "You can't do this to me, to Leah! Please, just don't!"

Sam's face fell. "I don't want to hurt anyone, Emily; especially not you—"

You stepped farther and farther away. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but you have to talk to Leah."

He stared wide-eyed at you. "You don't—" Resolution melded his features. "Fine. I'll show you, then ." He whipped off his shirt, revealing a toned, broad chest.

The next second was a blur. A blur of motion and color and strange shapes—Sam morphed, his form cracking, bones snapping into something totally different. You watched in horror.

And sure enough, the thing that stood in his place was an animal. Befurred and huge, it looked like—

A wolf.

Clarity sunk in, heavy as a douse of ice water.

Your fist went to your mouth. "My God. Sam."

It moved forward. You jumped back. Startled, it stilled, eyes pleading. The eyes—the same beautiful eyes that Sam possessed. The same, intelligent eyes.

You knew. "Sam."

And, though you knew it was foolish, you turned and ran.

And ran.

And ran.

Until finally you reached the house, your room.

Your pounding heart took a long time to calm.

* * *

Uncle Harry kept giving you significant glances during dinner. You didn't know if he knew everything, but you figured Sam must've said something. You wondered if maybe Sam had enough guts to tell him everything—_everything. _Probably not.

"Emily, you look sick!" That was Seth.

"She's been weird since the bonfire. Got tired while dancing, took a walk, and it seemed to get worse." Leah reached for another roll, giving you a look. "You're not going home early because you're sick. I won't allow it. I'd rather you throw up on me than leave this quickly."

Did she really have to say such nice things?

Would she say them ever again, if she knew?

When Uncle Harry spoke, his voice was authoritative- ever the gentle patriarch. The gentle patriarch who was lying to everyone, to his own daughter, and part of some weird supernatural ruse. "Walking is the best cure, like I always say. Fresh air. Do you want to go outside?"

You keep yourself from spitting back, "No," and instead shake your head.

"Seriously. Is this a bug? What symptoms do you have? You're not giving it to me, or I'll be so mad-" Leah pelted the half-eaten roll at Seth, cutting him off. He guffawed.

"Leave her alone," Leah grunted. "Em, let's go for a walk."

If Leah was with her, there would be no Sam outside. There would be no huge dog-wolf waiting in the underbrush, watching you with too intelligent a gaze.

"Yeah, let's go."

Leah reached for your hand. You swore, as you left, that Uncle Harry gave you an impatient look, as if you were some kind of toddler complicating things. Animosity welled in your stomach when you realized he was _upset _that you were bringing Leah.

It was a damn conspiracy.

Leah stepped into the yard first, spinning around with her arms flung open. "Maybe you should do this. It always makes me feel better if I've been cooped up."

You did as she did, both of you whirling in wide circles- hands sometimes flapping against each other's if your circles got too close- until you were laughing as hard as you did when you were ten. She never realized before how laughter changed, how even between elementary school and high school, the mirth seems to darken with the realization of adulthood.

You flung yourselves onto the spongy grass. Your hand sought Leah's. Above you, the heavens look wide, like ink spilled over the world.

"Leah?"

"Yeah?" She's breathless and happy, too.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Em."

"More than my own sister, if I had one." You squeeze her hand. "I just wish-" _That I hadn't come here, not right now. In a year. Or you come to me. That I'd never met Sam. That I'd never kissed Sam, or pleaded for his touch. That I'd never known the pleasure he could give me. That I'd never seen devotion, that I'd never seen the wolf. _"I just wish we could live in this moment forever. Or go back to being pirate princesses."

She laughed. "I wish that a lot too."

"Do you-" You swallowed. "Do you ever feel like life just happens? That you can't do a thing about it?"

She was quiet, then said, in a somber voice, "Yes."

"What do you do when you feel that way?"

"I allow it to happen, because it's going to anyway. Might as well feel like I gave it permission."

You nod, though you're not sure if you understand.

"I just feel like I'm going to mess everything up."

Leah seemed to think you were talking about college, or something. "You won't."

You don't reply, so she continues, "Everything happens for a reason."

"But what if- what if I hurt people along the way?"

All you could hear was her breathing. The moment seemed to weigh heavy on you, and you wondered if its pressure was bearing down on her torso, too. You turned your head in the grass. Her profile was illuminated by the lights of the house. All mirth was now gone. Something frosty had settled over her face.

In a quiet voice, she asked, "Who would you hurt, Em?"

You tried to speak, but it hurt. You tried again, and your voice cracked. "One of the people I love most."

You thought she'd roll onto her side and address you directly. She didn't. Her eyes didn't blink, though, as she continued to stare upward.

Her voice was steady, the opposite of your own. "How would you hurt her?"

"By being honest." The words bubbled from your lips before you could stop them.

"How else?"

"By- b-be," you tried to say the word, but it didn't work. You sucked in a breath, but couldn't speak. Tears were welling hot in the corners of your eyes.

"Say it, Em." Her voice grew sharper. "Tell me how you would hurt her."

You shook your head against the grass, the tears coming quicker.

"Tell me." Her hiss was like a firepoker.

"I can't."

"Goddamnit!" She rolled over, and in one moment, she was blocking your watery view of the sky. Her palms were planted on either side of your shoulders, but you couldn't see the knuckles growing white. Her eyes were huge and terrified and furious all at once. You'd never seen her look like that. She looked like a demon-spirit, full of dawning fury. "Tell me what you did, Emily."

You couldn't. There was silence for nearly a minute. Realization never dawned on her face, but you understood- she already knew.

"Was it today?" Her voice was a wisp of stinging accusation. "When you went on your walk?"

You jerked your head to the side in a "no," but she was firing onward. "I noticed that he left only fifteen minutes after you did. I tried to ignore it, but I watched his truck turn down the road in the exact _same _fucking direction."

The language horrified you. You'd heard her swear when she's joking, but not like this.

"I called his cell phone _three _times then. He didn't answer. Was he with you?"

You wanted to lie, if only to get her off the idea that something happened _today. _Other than Sam's explosion into an animal form, there was nothing to confess about this day. You started to say, "No," but she grabbed your shoulders and shook you.

"Don't you lie to me, Emily!"

Was that a growl, coming from the bushes? Alarm spiked through you, and your answer burst the air. "Yes!"

She dropped you. Your shoulders met the ground with a dull thud.

She looked absolutely stricken, as if you'd tried to snick her neck with a pocket knife.

She whispered, "What?"

"Yes, he was with me today." You began to cry then, which only made things look worse. You tried to recoup, explaining, "But we only talked today."

"_Today?" _She swallowed heavily. "Was- was today different from another day?"

As in, "Did you do more than talk, on another day?" Tears plopped onto your hands. You shook your head- at least that's what you wanted to do- but your conscience teamed up with your body to betray you. As you nodded, her eyes squeezed shut. She pressed the backs of her hands to her cheeks, obscuring her eyes. Her shoulders heaved as she cried, and the sound broke your heart even worse. You began to cry too, until there was nothing between you but misery.

You didn't know how much time passed, but it felt like hours. With each passing minute you could feel her leaving you, slipping away second by second. Memories of Leah at your grandparents' house, dragging you into the crawlspace with a sneaky laugh. At your house, painting your nails and eating fortune cookies. Memories of huddling up under one blanket, under the stars, on so many nights just like this one. It felt like it was all in fast-forward, all up until this moment when your bond would snap and shrivel in a revelation of utter betrayal.

Leah stood up first. Her eyes were bleary and red. She reached into pocket and extracted her wallet. It was the coppery one you'd gotten her for Christmas the year before.

"Here's some money." A crisp fifty fluttered to the ground. "Take a cab home."

Your voice cracked as you tried to appeal to her, to apologize. "I am so, so, so sorry."

"I'm going on a fucking walk now." She spat the word at you. "Get your stuff. I'll be back in thirty minutes. If you're not gone, I'll make you wish you'd left."

You didn't doubt the sincerity of her threat. You could imagine the windows she'd shatter, the clothes she rip. She had never been like this before. You nodded.

"Goodbye, Emily."

She sprinted to the road, and took off up the incline.

You were only by yourself for a few minutes. When he spoke to you, you were not surprised.

"Emily?"

"What."

"I- I'm sorry."

You didn't know that he could hear your heart trembling from its loss.

"You're not, so don't."

"I am. If it hurts you, then it makes me sorry. In fact, I-" His voice cut lower. "I don't know if I've ever been this miserable in my whole life."

"I know I haven't." You turned to him. Your skin felt tight where the tears were drying. "All because of you."

"I know."

"If you hadn't followed me, _both times, _then I wouldn't have had to do that." You shoved him. He took it, eyelashes down, looking even more miserable than you. "Why?! Why did you do all of this?! Why did you choose me for your secret?!"

"I imprinted," he whispered. The word seemed to have gravity. His eyes met yours, burning with something that trumped his sadness. "I saw you, and the world rocked itself. You were- you are!- the most glorious thing I ever saw, you're everything I've ever wanted and could ever need. You're the only person who I can fully share myself with."

You shook your head. "You should've chosen someone else for that duty. Maybe your girlfriend? Maybe _anyone _other than her best friend and cousin? Jesus, Sam!"

"I didn't choose to have this happen. It just happens, like anything in nature. It's what makes it so inescapable. It's instinct in its purest form. It twists itself into my conscious thoughts. I couldn't escape you if I tried."

"Well, I can escape _you._"

"Emily, this is real. It's painful, but it's real and will always be. There won't be anyone for me, except you. If you leave me..." He swallowed, then reached for your hand. "If you leave me, I'll die."

"Go ahead, then! Because_ this_," you gesture to the distance between you, and the direction in which Leah ran, "has killed me. I've lost my best friend, and it's because of _you."_

Your mind seemed to screech at you, especially when his face crumbled. If it was at all possible, this exchange seemed to hurt even more than the one with Leah. But there was a confused resentment boiling through your veins and you couldn't stop yourself anymore now than you could have when he caressed you in the woods.

"Emily, we can work through it."

"We _can't, _Sam!" You snarled his name. "Because there is no 'we,' and never will be. I'm leaving tonight, and I'm never going to come back."

He reached for you, shaking his head. He looked so mournful, it almost cut through your fury. _Almost. _

"I'm not welcome here. I have no reason to come back here. Not for my best friend, who now loathes me. And definitely not for you, who's to blame for all of this. I hate you. I'll only forgive you if you go back to Leah."

His eyes rounded with protest. "Don't say that, Emily."

"Go back to her!" You stomped the ground with your heel.

"I can't, Emily. She's not my imprint."

"Then find your next imprint, Sam, because this is the last time you'll ever see this one." You felt every fiber in your being shake.

"Stop it." His voice had dropped to a whisper. Were his shoulders shaking? Good.

You hissed with even more clarity, shaking the fifty dollar bill in front of him. "She gave me cab money. That's how badly she wants me gone. I have to get my stuff now."

"Don't, Emily." His eyes were unfocused.

"Goodbye, Sam. Good luck with your wolf problem."

And with that, you turned to walk away. You only made it half a step when you heard that popping explosive sound, which made your head whip around. He wasn't human anymore, but was a wolf teeming with rage and desperation. He met your eyes for just a second, but it lacked the clarity and intelligence that it had before.

Now, he looked like a true _animal._

That was your last thought before he leaped at you. You felt your body being covered by his furry mass, and for an instant thought that he was just going to pin you. You struggled screaming any obscenity you could, but focused on the one that would wound him the most: "I hate you, I hate you, I'm leaving, I hate you-" a thousand times.

He shook above you with such force that you couldn't breathe under his weight. He looked down at you one more time, with Sam's eyes, and you bit out a final declaration before he jerked, his paws coming down to quiet you.

You felt his claws, like inch-thick razors tearing down the side of your face and your neck. You screamed from somewhere in your toes, the pain so true that it had to be dredged up from the bottom of your physical being. The pressure was gone almost immediately, but you couldn't see through the crimson dripping over your vision. Your eyes were on your shirt, which was already covered in thick, fresh blood. You couldn't see him backing away, shaking and making low whining sounds. You tried to bring your hands up to cover your face, but only one of your hands follows orders. The other arm hung limply, covered in blood and looking foreign. You started screaming, so loudly and so terribly that it echoes through the night. You are not surprised when, later, Leah admits that it was the sound of your scream that had her running half a mile back to you.

You gave one last look to Sam, whose wolf was staring at you with such panic that it fueled your own terror. He looked like he'd never seen such an atrocity. The look hurt worse than even your exchange with Leah. Knowing that he found you abhorrent, _ruined, _made life so incredibly bleak that you started to sob tears that mix into the blood. Everything stung. Numbness set in.

Aunt Sue and Uncle Harry raced from the house, calling your name. You couldn't look away from Sam. He wasn't visible in the darkness.

"Oh my sweet God." Harry knelt beside you. "Seth, Seth, call 911!"

Seth shouted an affirmation, but it sounded faraway.

Sue was wailing. "What did this? What did this?"

You felt darkness tickling at the edge of your mind. The words were out instantly, the only thing that could save Sam. You were satisfied, at least, in that. He wouldn't be held in contempt. "A bear."

Sue wailed harder. Your last recollection was Sam. Concealed. Horrified. Wordless.

You slipped away, into an easier darkness where only a gentler memory of Sam's eyes remained.

Your heart's ache didn't cease.

* * *

_A/N: _This is where I'm going to stop, as I just wanted to explore the origins of how they came to be. This is darker than what I imagine, to be honest. We all know Emily healed from the attack and ends up happily with Sam, so I may someday continue to see how they work through this all. Probably not, but maybe. Until then, this is a piece I started years ago that- after an unfortunate computer crash- I discovered on a flash drive and finally was able to finish. I liked playing with the second-person perspective, albeit I found myself getting lost in verb tense often. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it. It's not...very happy. In fact, it's rather dark.

Review if you please!


End file.
